Wreckage
by foreverlasting24
Summary: Been missing Grey's, and Crowen, and sad that Sandra is gone, and always wanted to know more about the immediate aftermath of the plane crash at the end of S8. This is what came out of it.
1. Chapter 1

Cristina's mind is hazy chaos.

She is tired and sleepy, exhausted beyond belief, but she can't close her eyes. She can't let that last thread of hope fly off in the wind, not unlike what she witnessed when the back of the plane ripped away behind her—when debris and dust swirled around her like birds, when the roasted fuel from the plane watered her eyes, when she was falling and falling until the ground bruised the back of her body.

God, she wishes she could just black out, so she could stop playing the images in her head, so she would not have to hope, so she would not have to hold on to the tiny possibility of being rescued.

She runs medicine through her brain. Mark's going through multiple organ failure, one part crashing after another, his respiratory rate over 20, and in five minutes, Cristina has to check to make sure there's still a pulse. Arizona's leg is too infected, but Cristina and Meredith had bandaged it to keep the bugs from eating at it, and when she's not screaming, she's borderline hypothermic. Derek's hand seems injured beyond repair, but Meredith keeps running it in the stream.

And Lexie.

Cristina tilts her head back, willing herself not to think about Lexie. She is used to this, to pushing away emotions that could jeopardize her ability to reason logically. She glances behind her to look at Meredith and Derek, who are asleep in each other's arms. Her head is against his shoulder, and his arm is cradling her body. And just like that, she thinks of Owen, and how the last words she uttered to him were, _I'm leaving._ She wonders if he knows she is lost.

"I think—Cristina, I think I see something!"

Cristina looks at Arizona, who is finally able to scream coherent words, and then stares up at the dark sky. There is nothing at first, and Cristina believes it is another false alarm, but suddenly she hears an engine, and the bright lights of a helicopter blur her vision.

"Oh my god," she whispers, standing up. She waves her good arm frantically, as the light finds her in the middle of the wreckage—a lone star in a sky void of wishes. And it seems funny to Cristina that right at that moment, just as she wished, everything turns black.


	2. Chapter 2

Owen Hunt stands in the middle of the conference room and stares at the white board that lists SGMW's soon-to-be surgical fellows and their destinations.

He has written and erased, written and erased, written and erased her name a dozen times before he heard and a dozen times after.

Since the airline and Washington State PD were of no help, Owen has rooted himself at the hospital for three days now. He has spent sleepless nights in on-call rooms, countless hours in the OR, and minutes at a time in the waiting room—a husband waiting for the doctors to tell him that his wife is alive and well, a brokenhearted lover of a patient.

His phone rings; the sound is water brimming the edge of a glass. He answers it immediately.

"Chief Hunt?"

"Yes."

"This is Officer Carl Winder from the Idaho Police Department. We're calling to let you know that we've found your surgeons, and we've relocated them to Boise Hospital. We're sending a helicopter your way now."

He runs.

* * *

><p>Bailey looks at Owen, who is sitting on the helicopter bench with his eyes on the ground and hands on his lap. "She'll be okay," she whispers to him, water stinging her eyes. She has to believe it, too, and the only way to do that is to pull out the words that everyone is longing to hear. She glances at Richard, who is gazing solemnly out the window of the helicopter. "They will all be okay. We're going to go to Boise Hospital and see just that... they'll be scared, maybe they won't be quite themselves, but they'll be okay. All right?"<p>

She waits for a confirmation from either of the men. Richard nods slowly, but Owen can't bring himself to meet Bailey's eyes.

When the helicopter lands, Owen is the first to jump out. The Chief at Boise approaches the three of them, introduces himself as Dr. Fredricks, and leads them inside. The hospital is busy, doctors and nurses fleeting in opposite directions, chaos that Owen is used to, but that does not put him at ease. "I understand that you sent six of your surgeons out, correct?"

Owen nods. "Yes."

"I'm sorry to say that one of your doctors did not survive, died on the scene. One of your surgeons says her name is Lexie... they couldn't take her body." Owen hears Bailey gasp behind him, as his own heart drops to the pit of his stomach. "Some of your doctors are in critical condition, but most are stable for now."

Owen puts a hand on his head. "My wife—she was on the plane. Cristina Yang. Is she here?"

"She's in a room in the ER wing. I'll page Dr. Reese, she's monitoring her right now..."

Owen does not hear him. He scans the room numbers, weaving through the crowds of the ER. He cannot stand to hear anything without seeing it first, without seeing _her_. Maybe she's the one to run away first, but he had to be the one to chase her. The ER is packed, full of people and doctors running everywhere, and for a second, Owen thinks he is a pedestrian standing in the middle of the crosswalk at a green light.

He stops moving, an chiefly instinct, as a voice calling behind him. "Dr. Hunt!"

He whips around to see Richard and a shorter woman next to him. Reluctantly, Owen pauses and waits for the two doctors to catch up.

"I'm Dr. Reese," the woman says, out of breath. "I understand that you're worried. If you follow me, I'll bring you to your wife."

She walks towards the other side of the ER, a complete roundabout from where Owen was heading, and leads Owen and Richard into a dark hallway.

"What's wrong with her?" Richard asks, as they turn the corner.

"Combination of extreme exhaustion, dehydration, and exposure seems to have put her in a state," Dr. Reese replies, as Cristina comes into full view. She's on a bed in a glass room, eyes wide open, unblinking, and staring at the ceiling. In an instant, Owen is by her side, lifting the restraints they've put on her wrists.

He hears Richard behind him say, "What do you mean?"

"We think it's reactive psychosis," Dr. Reese explains. "She's unresponsive, and when we go to examine her, she becomes violent."

"I'm here, okay?" Owen says beneath his breath, his hands shaking as he unties the restraints. He looks at her face, blank and still, and tries to ignore the doctor's suggestions to leave her be. Because he couldn't leave, not when he's kneeling in front of her, not when he knows that he'll finally have her in his arms again -

As soon as Owen breaks free one of Cristina's hands, it is in the air, slapping down aimlessly at him.

"Cristina," he says softly, grabbing her hand and holding it back. "I'm going to help you, okay? It's okay. I'm here, I'm here now, I'm going to help you."

She is fighting against him, and maybe it's a little comforting to know that there is still a fight in her. He envelopes her body, and she pushes him with her body, and this reminds him of the time she comforted him, all those years ago. _You'll feel more panic at first,_ she said in his ear. _You'll try to resist it. But eventually, you will feel your pulse rate slow. It's okay, your breath will come easier. _

He buries his face in her hair, and cradles the back of her head, as she starts to relax in his arms. Owen lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.


End file.
